A Deeper Breath
by The Cubist
Summary: Coda to the destroy ending of ME3 and the ending DLC, and possible further adventures. Character and emotion driven, not much action. MA for language and smut. Shep m & Tali, James & Jack.
1. Chapter 1

A deeper breath

Like my first fan fiction work, this one is based on my desire to wrap up, in my own mind, the end of a dissatisfying tale.

Based on a bog-standard Paragon, Soldier, Sole Survivor, Earth-Orphan Shepard.

Rated MA for future chapters.

Tali/Shep(m) is the basis for most of this – and a tremendous thank you to cellotlix for the idea of Jack/James Vega. Mr. Vega does NOT get enough appreciation!

I (again) claim complete ownership and concept of the Mass Effect world, setting, and characters, and let EA's legal team say otherwise.

*GASP*

Tali'Zorah vas Rannoch, ne` Normandy, just hours after the end of the Reaper War, as the Normandy lifted away from the jungle planet it found itself on, trudged away from the memorial wall, still grasping tightly in her three-fingered hand the plaque bearing a name which she could not, would not accept had left her alone and wretched. Despite her last cries to him, despite his promises, despite the bond she had thought they had – or perhaps in spite of it, fate had taken her love from her.

He had returned from the dead, saved her life, defended her honor, earned her love and given her his heart, then gave her entire race peace and a home to return to – he should come back!

Nothing had ever kept him from coming back, from charging into the teeth of anything, any danger, to help his crew, and especially to help her.

Tali'Zorah knew it was selfish to enjoy that fact – that she was more important to him than the other crewmen – but enjoy it she did. She knew that she would be his first priority.

Finally that thought brought tears to her eyes, as she slumped against the back wall of the ship elevator, and keyed the haptic symbol for the Captain's stateroom. If she was his first priority, where was he now, while she tried to patch the aching hole in her chest?

*GASP*

Garrus stood off to the side, watching Tali's posture finally collapse in on itself as the elevator doors closed. The fact that Tali and John Shepard were bonded was hardly a well-kept secret – and it was to her credit, he thought, that she didn't completely give in until she thought no one else could see Shepard's chosen mate give into despair. Garrus had seen, though – his sharp sniper's eyes caught many things others didn't. Like how Tali and Shepard ALWAYS wanted each other – but acted like the option just wasn't really open to them on the SR1, only looking after Shepard's untimely demise and resurrection. Garrus made to follow her… but suddenly knew that he could provide no true help to her, none at all. Platitudes in the face of Tali's utter despair would only make things worse. He reserved himself to sending a simple message to his second oldest crewmate – which simply said that, when she was ready, he was always there for her to talk to. He knew her pain, to some extent – he had lost his brother, his best friend in the same man. IT still seemed… unfinished, to Garrus. Shepard had always come off as indestructible. John Shepard shrugged off rockets to the face, devastating biotic attacks, hails of gunfire… well, everything, really. But nothing could have survived that detonation, the ring of red fire and energy that surged from the crucible out in to the galaxy, taking all the reapers along with it. Nothing could have gotten back to the surface as the citadel started destroying itself, taking 80% of the souls on it with it. Nothing could have survived in the fiery core of that mess. Nothing, and no one.

Tali stepped off the elevator and into his… their… no-one's cabin. EDI began filtering the microbes out of the air and water of the room, industriously feeding nano-tech into the sheets and couches, and quietly said to Tali via the intercom, "Ms. Zorah, the cabin is clean enough that you may remove your suit, if you like." Tali glanced up at the ceiling, and mumbled out a thank you. EDI acknowledged it, briefly, and then left Tali to her own thoughts.

Tali'Zorah's helmet and suit worked hard to keep her tears inside, recycling them into drinkable water. Unless she wanted to share her tears, her suit was far too good at conserving resources and keeping her alive. She felt no desire to strip, safe though it was, as the only person who she wanted to share her skin and face with was gone, forever.

"How could he? How could he leave me alone? He's never not come back, even from the dead. John is too hard headed, too stubborn to die now and leave… me… No, Tali, you can't, don't let it creep into your mind – be logical, treat it like an engine problem: he was in the center of the eye of the core of destruction, of the brutal wave which swept through the geth fleet, taking every program in a platform, pushing EDI out of her body. His synthetics must be ruined. He… MUST… be dead. NOTHING could survive that."

And with that final utterance to herself, Tali'Zorah wailed a cry of pure sorrow into the still, purified air of the cabin, and collapsed into a heap at the base of the couch, sobbing into her arms.

*GASP*

James Vega knew that it was not only himself, or the Alliance, or even humanity that had lost a great man – the whole of the galaxy suffered from losing him, every living soul suffered – although he suspected he knew of a Quarian who was suffering more than anyone else at this moment.

Vega did the only thing he could at the loss of such an earnest and honorable man, one who had, like every person he touched, brought out the best in James: he worked out. He maintained weapons. He fixed weapons' mods, he did pull-ups until the bar bent, he did pushups until he couldn't lift himself again – he lost himself in the routines drilled into him by the Alliance. It distracted him - but it did nothing to resolve the loss he felt. There were a limited supply of truly good men in the universe, and losing one of the best wasn't helping any. Vega probably would have been surprised that he was considered one of them by his crewmates – he knew he wasn't the person everyone seemed to think he was. N7, _mi culo_. He was charging along another street when the Normandy practically fell out of the sky on his head, sweeping him and his squad up, saving them from the fate of its commander by executing his last orders. He didn't save anyone. He didn't help any fallen men in that hour. He was nothing like what Shepard was. He was just a dumb, meat-headed Lieutenant, charging head-on into fire, leading his men into trouble.

That was, of course, what Shepard and N7 saw in him: the soldier willing to be the first man in and the last man out on every mission, the honesty and quality of character in him, his dedication to his men, his willingness to take a bullet for any person he served with. James Vega was a rare man indeed – but one living in his own shadow, and the shadow of a legend.

His inner critic, the one that told him he didn't deserve the chances he got, began to whisper in his ears the threads of his inability to save the man who had started to make him believe again. Even if he knew there was nothing more he could have done, he still felt like he hadn't tried hard enough. Doubt crept through him until the endless sit-ups no longer worked, no longer cleared his head, and he collapsed back, staring at the cavernous ceiling over his head, awash in feelings of impotence.


	2. Chapter 2

With a shuddering gasp, John Shepard swirled into consciousness in pure darkness. The first thought was simply "How?" but it lasted only a moment before the pain avalanched through his rebuilt nervous system. The laser melted armor bonded to his skin, the hole in his abdomen, the blood dripping down his arms… those were what he remembered. The searing ache in his ribs, the swiftly cooling left arm, and…

oh god, where are my legs, I can't feel my legs!

In his panic he tried to move, to sit up – but only his right arm obeyed his commands. There was… an immense weight, a solid and unyielding mass cutting across his hips and left side. That much he could feel. He was pinned to… whatever he was lying on. Not that paralyzed legs would help him move much anyway. Finally he tried to open his eyes: one of them popped free after fighting through the clotted blood that glued it shut. The left one remained stubbornly closed, from impact or being missing entirely, he wasn't sure – the darkness he was in left everything to his imagination.

I can feel the blood pouring out of my left arm, he thought. My hand must be crushed, and it's going numb too fast.

Shepard reached across his body with his right arm, eliciting a sharp his from his fire ravaged lungs, which labored mightily to bring him oxygen when half the alveoli were scorched into non-functionality. His ribs burned, his right shoulder felt out of socket – but he was able to tuck his right hand close enough to his left to finger the haptic key for first aid. There was a brief orange flash from his omni tool, and then medi-gel leaked out of his armor where his hardsuit computers still functioned. Enough of it trickled down to his inner elbow, where his veins were torn open, to begin to heal the vicious tear that was leaking his lifeblood onto the ground. Painkillers flooded into his system, although the immensity of Shepard's injuries meant it did little to ease his pain.

His right eye caught the concrete slabs lying a couple feet over head in the flash of his omni-tool. He realized, though, that the cuts on his face through which his implants shone dimly out of, gave him the minutest of light to see.

To see what, he thought. There's nothing here to see. Just the final resting spot of the galaxies' "savior"

Shepard then began to wonder why he triggered his First Aid at all – now he was just going to suffocate and run out of air, or die from starvation – there was a terrific finality and depth to the rubble over his head. He felt as if he was a mile underground – as well buried as a Prothean relic.

But then, hope had always been John Shepard's most potent weapon. Hope and his connections to others, the people he met and helped during his fight. There was one person in particular he wished he could return to – but it was more demoralizing to think about her than hopeful. Being a warmer than normal fossil somewhere in the depths of wreckage only hurt more when it put her further away – and Shepard was prepared to sacrifice himself to let her live on. Entertaining those thoughts made his heart ache, his stomach twist: he broke a promise to her, and he wasn't going to see Tali again.

Shepard then felt something entirely new: a sudden shock, a buzzing pain like sticking his finger into a fuse box while running in the sewers as a child. It was everywhere in his body, but there were hotspots; at his heart, at his lower back and spine, deep in his pelvis on the left side, across the shoulder blade on his right and his neck to the left. It lasted but a moment, but then repeated again, 5 times. The fifth time he could suddenly feel his legs again. He wasn't terribly glad that he could, as he was certain that at least the left one was crushed, and the pain from it momentarily blacked him out.

Shepard came to instantly, with two thoughts in his head: that Cerberus did one hell of a job on him, and that they had stitched together his spine with an implant. Both thoughts were simultaneously gratifying and terrifying.

Now that he focused on it, Shepard could almost feel little pro-human nanites creeping through his blood stream, trying to repair damage far beyond their real ability to fix.

"Great, now my own body won't let me go quickly," he tried to say, but it came out as barely a rasp.

Shepard then just lay back, feeling his breaths slowly become more effective, his lungs functioning better as the nanites labored in his system.

It then occurred to him, that if he couldn't go quickly, at least he could find out what was happening on the radio. He lifted his right hand to his ear, wincing as the shoulder torqued uncomfortably and the side of his face screamed as his fingers clumsily bumped into it. He wasn't expecting anything, and as much as was possible with half a building on top of him, jumped when he almost instantly not just any chatter, but the voice of someone he knew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading so far! More will be on the way, although chapters are likely to stay short for the time being - perspective hopping is EXHAUSTING.**

**Please review or leave a comment if you spot any errors - or are impatient for me to get to the smut =P**

* * *

"Keep those fields steady, ya little sh… wussies!" Jack barked into her radio. Alliance command had her and her students fucking around trying to clear rubble from the beam site – god only knew for what reason. Even from her position far back on the battlefield 18 hours ago, helping protect soldiers with her students, she had seen the destruction that Shepard unleashed with the crucible. Nobody survived that sort of shit fest.

Jack looked on critically as Rodriguez suddenly faltered on half of the enormous slab of concrete she held up, instantly, Jack was there, fields up, knocking Rodriguez out of the way, radio still going.

"God damnit, Rodriguez! You're proper military now – so listen up: if you can't fucking carry the load, say so! Dropping a fucking concrete slab on one of your squad mates is sure as shit gonna ruin their day. And then I'll have to ruin yours."

"Sorry, Ma'am!"

"Don't apologize – LEARN from it!"

With a muttering of curse words, Jack helped the teen who held the other half move it away from the other students – students, she thought, fuck. I have to stop calling them that. They're veterans now.

With a shout, Jack spiked the block into Thames behind the beam site. Then she reached for her omni-tool, adjusting her radio to scan the military and emergency frequencies the Alliance told her to search. With her radio set to broad spectrum broadcast, she sighed, and turned back to the kids hopping and shuffling over debris.

"Okay, maggots! Everyone on this next chunk!"

In her ear she heard the various yes'ms and ma'ams of her squad - she thought. There was something else there. Jack had long learned there was little she could trust beyond her own instincts, which were usually right. Maybe someone got hurt when Rodriguez slipped up?

"I can't hear you, ya pussies! Somebody get themselves a boo-boo? Toughen up!"

This time the response was clear and solid – but there was a rasp, a wheezing breath gasping for air.

Jesus Christ, there's someone under here?! She thought. She whipped her left arm up, looking for an errant signal. Nothing, just the keys of her squad… the omni-tool hunted and sniffed, and then, she heard the rasping voice again. There! The tool stabilized on an unnamed signal, one which meandered across a few bands, like that tool's radio was barely functional. Which would probably make sense. Collapsing a city block on yourself was bound to make more than a few things not work.

"Hello? Is there someone down there? How the fuck did you make it through that mess?" Jack felt guilty for saying that almost immediately – perhaps aggression wasn't the best tactic for assuring someone help was on the way. "I mean, there's some help on the way! Do you know where the fuck you are in this pile of shit?"

There was a rasping, coughing laugh, followed by a groan of someone in immense pain. Then, almost too rough to be discernible: "I thought I heard someone angry at people inconsiderate enough to get themselves buried in collapsed buildings. I could use some help, Jack."

Jack only knew one person who could be buried under a building and still try and talk her into being a 'better person.'

"Commander? Shepard? Fucking hell, you're ALIVE?!"

"Just barely. Where am I anyway?"

"You're in London with about half a fuckin' city block on top of you. Holy shit, how did you make it out of that mess?!"

"I don't know. Where's the Normandy? Did it make it away from the detonations?"

Jack bit her lip. Nobody knew where that ship was. The Comm Buoys around earth were wreckage, and nobody had tried the quantum entanglement device at the FOB with any success.

"Nobody knows. We can't get a fucking thing out of anyone or anybody outside of earth orbit. We're on old shit, just radio waves, no FTL without the satellites in the sky. Never mind that right now – That son of a bitch Joker wouldn't let anything happen to his ship, and getting you out of here seems like a slightly more fucking urgent problem."

Prangley walked up to Jack at that moment: "Ma'am? What's going on?"

"Prangley, we've got the savior of the galaxy to dig up. Commander Shepard's down there, and you little shits get the divine pleasure of digging him up!"

There were cheers all around as the biotic squad returned to work, as John Shepard wheezed a laugh 30 feet under them at Jack's 'inspirational' command style.

Jack the switched her radio to Alliance Command channels. There was a babble of tactics and rescue operations, but Jack shouted through with hope and pride in her voice: "Command, this is Specialist Nought. Commander Shepard is alive. Repeat, Shepard is alive, and I'm digging him the fuck out of the hole he got himself into."

There was a pause of stunned silence on the command channel, and then, there were only cheers.

Jack's life had taken a dizzying turn from when she first met Shepard – and he was mostly to thank for who she was becoming. There was still guards up from her inner self – but she wasn't afraid to rely on someone else for help, and the fact the man who showed her this was the case was alive, and she could help…

Well, it warmed the fucking cockles of her heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**This one took a little longer - it's also much longer. Hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

Tali knew she should let Specialist Traynor work on the quantum entanglement communicator – keelah, it was _her_ specialty. Tali knew she be digging through the Blue Box that EDI was in, to try and help her back into the body she was shoved out of by the Crucible. She should be down in the engines, helping to nurse the tantalus core back to full power. She should be helping Joker get his navigation and plotting software to stop being fatalistic (it kept refusing to plot a course when it couldn't find a mass relay beacon, saying that "time needed would exceed the operative range of the crew members"). It would probably be just fine for her to curl up into a ball in the Commander's Stateroom and do nothing – but Tali was burning with nervous energy and anxiety like a Chihuahua on a double espresso.

She had been doing just that when Garrus waltzed off the elevator into the Stateroom wearing – and Tali had to double take to believe it – the Turian equivalent of sweats and a t-shirt. Garrus didn't seem to have any trouble whatsoever with being in the middle of nowhere, weeks and months at best from any place civilized, with the possibility of Shepard being dead much closer to a certainty than one of many options.

Then again, reading a Turian's carapaced face was an art that only a few of the best diplomats from their own race were any good at. As it was Tali had about the same chances of reading his emotions as he did hers.

Garrus walked down to the bed, sat down on the end, and reached down with his left arm around Tali's back to grab her left shoulder. Tali let him lift her into a hug.

"Tali, don't think that I'm not hurting because I don't show it. Don't think that it doesn't bother me. I lost my brother out there. But there's nothing I can do about it now. I'm good at strategy, good at calibrations, good at shooting - but I don't have any skills that can really help us, or Shepard, if he's out there, right now. The best damn Quarian engineer I've ever met, though… now, if she happened to be on this ship, there's no doubt in my mind that she could be working on _something_ would help. Ancestors know I could certainly use something to distract myself from the memories, from the loss…"

Tali looked up at him once he finished. Good old Garrus, working to lift her spirits. He was almost as effective a leader as Shepard himself, albeit with a different philosophy. She often wondered why he stuck around in Shepard's shadow.

"Garrus, why did you stay?"

Garrus flinched back in some surprise at the question, and started to answer, but before he could out so much as a word, Tali interrupted him: "I don't mean that like it sounds. You are important, you are a leader amongst your people, you could surely have been out there leading just as capable a squad into battle. Why do you let Shepard overshadow you?"

Garrus sat, mouth slightly open, thinking, for a moment.

"Well. Hm. Honestly, isn't that true of every member of the team?"

Tali blinked. She hadn't looked at it that way.

"Think about it: there's the second human SPECTRE, a Quarian Admiral, an N7 candidate, the Shadow Broker herself, the last Prothean, a fully realized AI, and… well, me, I suppose. John has led me into being the man I am today, taught me mercy rather than vengeance, showed me tolerance and cooperation bests holding grudges and going it alone for the sake of honor. I could be somewhere else, sure, but I'd be leaving the man who shaped much of my life in the lurch. I'm pretty sure any of us could be off in charge of something important somewhere else. I'm also pretty sure none of us wants to." Garrus smiled, "besides, it's not helping that I don't have much of a choice about it anymore, is it?"

Tali laughed, shrugged off Garrus' shoulder, and stood. "I guess not. Maybe I should go find something to do." She strode quickly away, looking purposeful. Garrus could see her hands rubbing each other fervently, however, and only now began to wonder if perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to subject the rest of the crew to partially heart-broken, anxiety ridden Quarian. God knows he understood, he had had no news of his father or sister, knew nothing of the fate of Palaven. With the comm buoy system in tatters, there wasn't really any way to get information to the ship. He shrugged those thoughts off instantly, thinking that doing something was better than nothing. And with that last thought he stood and headed to the cargo bay, to practice sniping against the targets Lieutenant Cortez had placed at the far end against the blast doors. There would be plenty of time to worry later. Now he had to do Shepard's job, and be strong for the rest of the crew. It surprised him that the Alliance ship had no proper XO, but he was more than willing to step up and unofficially take the position. He was the one who had kicked Joker into setting a course to Earth, and had gotten the crew busy fixing things rather than sitting and staring out into space.

* * *

Tali was half through ripping the surrounds and fascia off of the alcove that housed the entanglement devices, wires dangling, when Lieutenant Vega and Specialist Traynor walked into the room.

"Santa madre de dios! What a mess! Thank god you know what you're doing, eh, Sparks?"

Tali looked up at the pair. Traynor seemed nervous rather than angry. Vega… well, James was James.

Traynor stepped forward, "I'm glad you're digging into this, Ms. Zorah. I'm good using this stuff, at organizing data feeds and results, but I don't understand the actual workings of it any better than Mr. Vega here."

"Don't assume, niña bonita, that just because I'm a big dumb soldier I don't know anything about engineering."

"Well, you don't, do you, James?" said Tali.

"I don't, no. But that doesn't mean I _couldn't_. How can I help?"

Traynor looked on for a moment as Vega threw himself into aiding the lithe little engineer, before heading back into the war room to try and pick up more signals from any survivors. She had made no secret of her preferences, but Vega insisted on complementing her. Samantha wasn't sure if it was because he somehow thought he had a chance at "converting" her, or because that was just the kind of person he was. After seeing his enthusiasm to help Tali, however, she was leaning much more toward him just being that certain sort of gentleman – quite an interesting dichotomy in that body. Samantha was surprised to find herself just a little intrigued by what depths James might be hiding.

"Now, grab this part, here. I don't know why humans insist on using these little tabs and holes, they're impossible to get open. We always just use latches."

James mashed his hands around the cover plate, and flexed it until the aforementioned little tabs moved far enough to let the panel pop free.

"Got me, Sparks. Maybe the Alliance wasn't thinking about dainty little Quarian hands trying to open them."

Tali hit him on the shoulder. She liked James. He was earnest and truthful, and acted much dumber than he was – sometimes his insight surprised her. He was obviously here because he felt guilty for letting his charge, the man he was supposed to protect, get out of his sight and hurt.

"Of course they weren't. They also don't have any other reasons. I'm allowed to complain."

James chuckled. Seeing Sparks so bent out of shape kind of hurt. She was obviously at the end of her rope, her body language alternating between collapse and frenetic, bird-like energy. She was so self-less, full of compassion; it was interesting to see her working on something for what she thought was for herself. It was like she felt guilty for loving Shepard, for missing him and trying to reach him again. James knew that was what she was after; she was working on the entanglement pair linked to earth first. James was, self admittedly, a sucker for a damsel in distress, and Tali certainly fit that bill at the moment. James was pretty sure Shepard was a sucker for it too: he had heard the story of how they met, and what he'd done for her. It didn't hurt that Sparks was a looker, even with that suit on.

James leaned back onto his haunches, watching Sparks dig into the now open panel.

"Little bosh'tet. One wave of cosmic destruction was all it took to burn a few boards, make this thing useless?" Tali ripped out the fried board, and handed it to James without looking. "Go look for one of these in the storage units in the conference room." If there was nothing else she liked about working on Alliance tech, it was that it was modular and easy to replace. She'd had enough of resurrecting burnt husks of outdated and irreplaceable silicon on the fleet; it was nice to be able to throw something away and use a new part. A little bit guilt inducing, but nice. James returned with the new board.

"What does this part do anyway, Sparks?"

"It's part of the translation equipment. The quantum pairs are fine, I think, but this is the hardware that helps turn the bit-spin outputs into something we can understand instead random streams of binary."

"So we could be receiving something and just not understand it?"

"Well, not exactly. The quantum pairs are always changing states, whether both sets work or even exist. Static is still data, in other words."

Tali lined the board up and plunged it into the corresponding socket in the depths of the holo-projector floor.

There was a sudden response, as an image popped up with Tali still crouching inside of it.

"Keelah!"

"Mierda!"

"ksshhggthh –ormandy, this is Alliance Command, Earth base. Repeat, return to Sol System."

James was in the pickup range of the holo sensors and stood to speak with the Corporal.

"Soldier! This is SSV Normandy, receiving!"

"Lieutenant Vega! Greetings from Earth. We've been trying to make contact for a few days now."

"We've had some problems out here. What's the good word?"

Tali was collecting her wits, and it took her all of her self-control to not simply tackle Vega out of the way and demand news about her bondmate.

"Sir, the council is on Earth, the fleets are ordered and repairing the Citadel and rebuilding Earth, and-"

The Comms officer was shoved out of frame, and woman took his place, one with beautiful eyes and huge, soft lips, covered in tattoos. She also had the most hardened look on her face James had ever seen.

"Commander Shepard is alive! And who the fuck are you?!"

Tali couldn't hold herself back then. She pushed James out of the way, "Jack! He's alive?! He's ok?!"

"Tali. Of course he's alive. The king of the boyscouts takes more than galactic scale destruction to kill."

"Oh Keelah. Oh God. Thank the ancestors."

Jack's hard expression faltered a little, she looked anxious for half a second, biting her lip.

"He's alive. I wouldn't say he's fucking ok."

Tali sat back. Suddenly she was without words, or much hope. James gently pushed her out of the way. "Jack, was it? How is he?"

Jack folder her arms and scowled at him. "Who the fuck are you? I ain't telling some random Alliance meathead that shit."

"I should be asking the same thing, if I hadn't heard Tali call you by name. Lieutenant Vega, Commander Shepard's brig officer and guard."

"Right. And that's supposed to make me trust you?"

James had had enough of her stubborn wall of hostility.

"Listen up, perra. I've been working with commander for almost a year now. I've got the right, same as any of the billions of souls he's saved, to know what's happened to the man who gave everything he had to save you, me, and everyone else. Your loyalty suuure is impressive, but right now you're just being pig headed for your own reasons. What. Happened. To. The. Commander."

Jack was taken aback for a moment. How had this meathead hit the nail on the head so easily, like he wasn't even trying?

"Fucker. Fine. 3 broken ribs. Left arm broken, left hand partially crushed/shattered. Right shoulder dislocated. Left knee broken, left calf crushed, left foot broken. Right hip dislocated. Lacerations everywhere, heavy blood loss, right eye socket broken, heavy burns on the torso. Smoke and fire inhalation, his lungs are pretty fucked up. Of course he was still laughing and smiling when _I_ dug him up."

Tali whimpered and clutched herself a little tighter at each injury Jack listed in her acerbic, mocking tones.

"He's still conscious, though. Alive. Talking. Missing you, Tali. Missing his crew. Funny how he never mentioned you, Vega."

"Does James ring a bell?"

Jack's eyes widened at the statement. Shepard had talked him. At some length. Called him his successor, in many ways. A good man. Hinted that Jack might like him, even, as impossible as that was.

"Oh. Um, yeah. Fuck. Anyway, he's alive, and every fleet nearby knows it – he's in for a metric shit-ton of diplomatic honor when he gets out of all the surgery and recovery. Yippee-fuckin'-doo-da, all he had to do was save the whole fucking galaxy to get some appreciation. I'm out."

The Corporal stepped back into the holograph's range.

"I apologize, sir. She barges in here constantly."

James smiled. "She cares in her own way."

The corporal cleared his throat. "Ahem. Yes, Sir. When can we expect you in system?"

James smiled, saying "I'm the wrong person to ask about that. Joker would be who you want. Give me a moment, corporal, I have some good news to share."

James reached down and pulled Tali up.

"Keelah, he must be in so much pain. I wish I could help him…"

"He's alive, Sparks. He's ALIVE. And you can go back to him. He'll get better."

Tali sighed. "Thank you, James." She thought about it for a moment. "He IS alive. I WILL see him again. I can hope, again." Her posture rose, her head lifted, she looked ahead again. Gone was the waif Vega saw through the shell Tali tried to project. She looked like herself again: strong, possessed, caring. Love and hope had a way of making a person's soul shine like sunlight through an open window. James smiled at her: "There you go, Sparks. Loco loves you. He'll be waiting. Now, I have some news to share."

James pulled up the ship's address system.

"Normandy crew, this is Lieutenant Vega. Miss Zorah and I have got the entanglement device working again, and we have some news: Shepard is alive."


	5. Chapter 5: Meetings

**Hey all, another chapter to read. Hope you all like it (and let me know if you do).**

* * *

John Shepard sat in his hospital bed, waiting expectantly for his love to come through the door to his room.

The comm buoy system had been mostly repaired within a month of the end of The Reaper War, which meant that Shepard was at least in contact with Tali and the Normandy during their slow voyage back to earth, without the aid of mass relays.

The first contact he had made with Tali'Zorah had been through the entanglement holo system that Jack had insisted on dragging into his hospital room, at least temporarily, only a week or so after he'd been dug up. That Jack had been so insistent was both so much like her and so much against Shepard's understanding of her relations to others that he could do nothing more than smile at her swearing at the nurses every time they worked on Shepard but got in the way of the (understandably) utterly cowed Comms officer.

Tali's body language, once they got to see each other over the comm device, had never looked so conflicted to John. She seemed torn between happiness, anxiety, depression, and anger. Shepard decided to break the awkwardness with a joke.

"Tali! I can't begin to tell you what seeing your… helmet means to me." This, of course had the opposite effect that he wanted, she folded in on herself more, and looked even sadder.

"Oh keelah, John. You must be hurting. And I can't do a thing about it, trapped out in the middle of nowhere. You can't even see me, really. Stupid immune system…"

John Shepard knew then, as he always did when he really talked to Tali, just why he loved the woman. Always putting others first. Never thinking of herself without guilt. Selfless, giving, and always thinking she has not given enough.

"Tali, I don't think I can feel ANYTHING right now. They've got me so pumped full of painkillers and nerve blockers that I'm not totally sure I still have limbs, let alone injuries. I feel fine."

He didn't look fine, he knew, half trussed up and swaddled in bandages, wearing an eyepatch. Still, he couldn't feel any of it. The galaxies best… everything was going into healing him.

Tali straightened up and clasped her hand in front of her. "I do like the eye patch. You look like one of those pirates from the old Earth movies Joker loves." John could hear the smile in her voice.

"I'm just glad to know you're alive and ok. I love you, Tali, and you were right: there wasn't enough time. There is now. We can build that house you want. We can go places and just… be with each other. You deserve much better than I've been able to give you, as of yet, but I'll work my way to it."

Tali looked something like she wished she could jump through the holo link and throw her arms around him. "I don't think you could do much more. You've saved my life I can't think how many times, you gave me a home, defended me, gave my race back its planet –"

Shepard cut her off, "Right, I know all that – but I've done nothing for you I wouldn't do for any of my crew members, and I've done nothing for you that was truly personal. You've had almost no time to reap the benefits of being my girlfriend, and I plan on giving you more than you can handle, once I'm back on my feet."

Tali bounced on her feet, excitement and energy in every bit of her body. "You'd better be ready to get the same back, ke'sari."

John smiled "Ke'sari?"

Tali paused. "Did I say that out loud? Bek'makt. It's Khelish for beloved. It's what I usually call you in my head."

"That… thank you. I love you too, Tali."

Tali ran off at almost a sprint, although Shepard assumed it was a combination of embarrassment and duty which drove it. Tali wasn't afraid of loving another. He was sure, though, that she was scared and nervous of being loved. Shepard called the comms officer back into the room so he could take the entanglement device away.

It'd been a fairly hellish 3 months since the Crucible destroyed the Reapers – although, Shepard suspected that it couldn't have been worse than the last time he spent a long period under the knife. Miranda Lawson was guiding his restoration this time as well, as a general advisor and, let's face it, probably the person only person left alive who knew anything about how his body was put back together the first time. She had been a great help – although most of her input centered on what NOT to do to the various implants inside of him.

He was still healing – and had any number of new scars. The most urgent problem when Shepard arrived was getting his armor off: in its half melted state, none of the latches worked properly anymore, and the plating had fused to the underlying carbon weave. The only saving grace was that Shepard wore a shirt underneath the armor: chewing through a huge number of blades, an old cast removal saw was what finally did the job. Shepard could vividly remember the pain of having most of his injuries untreatable while the armor was still in place, while doctors literally sawed away at his protective shell turned prison.

Finally with the armor off they began treatment. The left side of his body had been pinned by a massive concrete pillar, and sheer weight had done most of the immense damage to his extremities. Shepard watched in amazement at the chambers donated by the Asari strapped around his left hand and leg: somehow the boneweave units detected the fragments of his bones, and reassembled them in the proper shapes. Shepard had been fairly convinced he was going to be using prosthetics or genetically lab grown limbs given the sheer complexity of his smashed finger and knee joints, but the Asari had this trick hidden up their sleeves. The Asari doctors said the end result would be like having an old man's joints: the bones would be in the right place, and the ligaments would be reattached, but the buffers of cartilage, lubrication, and soft pads which kept the joints smoothly operating wouldn't really be… there. Something about human soft tissues, they said. Shepard was about to go off on them for making things worse than a traditional transplant or amputation and prosthetic when Miranda interrupted and promptly stated that the Cerberus nano-machines in his body, the very same ones which had healed his lungs completely, would very ably re-habilitate the joints with new fluids and buffers. Apparently the nanites were no good at large scale structural repair – like bone work – but they were better than anything else (left) in existence at soft tissue regeneration. Shepard fell into medicated sleep soon after that with more grateful thoughts to Cerberus, odd as they felt now.

With traditional traction on much of the left side of his body, and blue, glowing jars on that hand and leg, re-socketing his right limbs was almost impossible; there simply wasn't anywhere to safely apply force. Mass Effect fields and a weird contraption of belts Shepard was certain had been made just for him ended up solving this – although there were a few days where both sides of Shepard's body were useless, which consisted mostly of uncomfortable aid from a nurse to help him with eating and bodily functions.

His right eye was bruised by the broken socket - it still looked angry as all hell, but the doctors said eyes take time and that his would heal on its own, so he wore a patch for the time being. It did give him a fairly rakish look, he supposed. Shepard was just glad that the bone itself was re-knit - like his ribs – with simple ultra-sonics, leaving little but deep bruises.

Patching up the burns and cuts and scrapes seemed to be fairly minor after all of that.

As it was, Shepard had spent the better part of three months basically confined to bed. Not even a full week ago had all the casts and bandages come off. He still wore the eyepatch when others were present, just to hide the damage to his eye and the resulting red glow, but it was almost back to normal as far as vision went. He was finally making the first steps toward rehab, toward learning to walk again and getting back his physique.

The comm buoy system had been mostly repaired within a month of the end of The Reaper War, which meant that Shepard was at least in contact with Tali and the Normandy during their slow voyage back to earth, without the aid of mass relays. Letters, small one way videos, and real time (but scratchy) voice communication was much, much better than being left alone – although Jack made sure he was never completely alone, in her own gruff and angry way. God knows he couldn't talk about his feelings with her, but it was obvious she cared, and was glad he was alive.

Now, though, the Normandy was back in orbit, and Tali, his love, was coming to see him. She'd have to get past his guard dog, as Jack had appointed herself, but he suspected that Tali and the rest of John's squad mates, his closest friends, would find it quite a lot easier than the reporters had. More than one wall had required repair from the dents of insistent camera men.

John Shepard was not a vain man, but he was certain he looked emaciated and weak – far from his battle tuned norm. He hoped he didn't look too bad.

Just then, the door to his pent house private hospital room opened, revealing Tali'Zorah. He looked at her, eye-patched up, and smiled, it had been WAY too long since he seen her vivacious form in front of him in the flesh. Tali had been forward enough to send him more than a couple of semi-nude pictures from his cabin on the Normandy – but pictures were pictures, and this was her.

"Hi, Tali."

"Hello, Shepard. John."

She ran across the room, ripped off her mask, and kissed John so hard he thought he might see stars. Her lips felt soft against his, he could feel her urgency to know that it was him, to reassure herself that he was there, in the kiss. He kissed her back, with just as much desperation, seeking the comfort of knowing she was beside him, finally.

With a gasping breath she pulled away, chest heaving, looking into John's uncovered eye, as he looked back into her silvery, slight glowing ones. She put the mask back on after a moment of heated glances. "Wow. I guess you missed me, huh?"

"You have _no _idea. Can you take off that silly patch?"

Shepard reached up to his eye, but paused before pulling it completely off. "You sure? My eye still looks… a little weird." Tali waved her hand at him in assent while sitting on the side of his bed. Shepard peeled off the patch, and opened his eyes. The right one was still discolored, a sort of brackish black around the sclera with a red glow in the pupil – but it was baby blue in the iris. Tali looked at it closely, then gently bumped her helmet to his forehead. "As long as it's in your head, it looks fine to me."

"I was actually worried the reporters were going to make some sort of big deal about it, but I still haven't seen one! Jack is pretty single minded about some stuff."

"Never thought I'd be thanking her for anything other than not killing me."

" Actually, I think she might be jealous of you. We almost had a kind of… thing back during the collectors. I'm glad we didn't, though."

Tali laughed. "I had more competition than I ever thought. I still don't understand why you chose me."

"There never was any competition. Not Liara – she surprised me by approaching me the way she did. Not Ashley, not Samara, not Miranda (who I owe my life to twice at this point), not Jack. You were all I ever saw and ever wanted. I'm just glad that I get you now."

"You never said why," Tali said with a tone that just begged for more praise in her unsurity.

"I shouldn't have to. I love you, there's nothing more that should matter. But I know you… selfless, loving, kind, even to those who have hurt you, no ego… always thinking of another. You're wonderful and perfect."

Tali sighed, and moved to lay next to him and curl up, but paused with a jolt, looking right at him.

"Go ahead. I'm healed up, just weak. I could use some cuddling."

Tali leaned over and pulled her armored boots off, and then laid down and gently curled herself under the covers on John's right side, and twined her legs around his. She almost immediately started to drift off, much to Shepard's amusement.

"Hey! Wake up!"

"I haven't slept well since… that night. I miss you next to me. And I just spent the last three months nursing a half broken drive core here. Leave me alone."

John chuckled and kissed the top of her helmet.

"Good night, then, ke'sari."

* * *

Jack was sitting in a chair across from the elevator door outside of Shepard's room, watching for un wanted visitors, when the elevator dinged, and opened up. Jack was on her feet in front of the door before it opened. She was greeted by the sight of James Vega.

James' personal presence and scent hit her like a freight train. He was so obviously powerful and towered over her by most of a foot. He could have tucked his chin onto her forehead. He smelled like a wolf – like something that bared a resemblance to domestication but was pure savagery in actuality. Jack knew power. She knew savagery. She was as powerful as any, and she liked men who put off that air – but so often those same men were the most egotistical, the most abusive, the most set in their chauvinistic pig mannerisms. Made them so much the easier to fuck and leave, she supposed, but they sure liked to leave bruises behind. James didn't put off that feeling. He oozed supreme confidence at the same time he did unsurity, aggression contained behind calmness and comfort. Jack wanted him immediately.

Jack wilted and stepped back for a moment, her face blank, but charged forward again immediately with a snarl curling her lips. "What the fuck do you want?"

James looked down at her in amusement at that point. He had same reaction to her, initially: she was power contained in frailty, strong spirit hiding sensitive pain, exquisite lips and beauty framing ultimate, unstoppable force. She was simultaneously the most hardened and most fragile woman he'd ever seen, and he wondered how people were scared of her, considering her anger was so obviously a defense mechanism, and about as see-through as glass. He supposed that the anger itself was off putting enough when trying to love someone – but Shepard had said something about her, hadn't he? That underneath it he got a glimpse of a little girl? Someone who wanted and needed love? That her push was strong enough to send most men running but that he suspected it would be worth it in the end. James found himself innately knowing it would. She smelled like wood smoke to him – a warning and a comfort, a sign of danger and homecoming all at once. He wanted to hold her tightly to him.

James smiled. "I want to see loco, chica. Been awhile since I've seen my CO face to face."

Jack sneered. "He's busy. Go jerk off till he's ready."

James smiled even bigger: "Is that a suggestion you want to help me out with?"

Jack outright growled with him. Somewhere under the anger at his audacity and her general hatred and mistrust of everyone other than her and her students, the answer, she was shocked to even have enter her subconscious, was yes, she did.

"Go fuck yourself."

"So, should I call you and ask or something? I didn't think Loco needed a secretary."

James suddenly found himself pushed back onto the elevator by Jack's biotics hard enough to slam into the back wall.

"Fuck you. Try again in a few hours, dick."

James laughed from the floor, with a dent right over his head. "Sounds good, chica."

Jack stood, arms crossed, sneering at him, until the doors closed and the elevator headed back down.


	6. Chapter 6

John Shepard woke in the middle of the night to two simple truths: he was finally sharing a bed again with the woman he loved, the woman of his dreams, which certainly helped brace him for the other truth: so many, many souls had died. Many more than were actually at his own hands, but dear god, the death toll…

John began to wheeze, to feel his throat close up and his lungs hyper ventilate. What the hell? A freaking panic attack? Where was this the past THREE MONTHS he'd been sitting, helpless, in the hospital bed?

Tali'Zorah stirred as she felt him beginning pant and choke and sob. She pushed herself up and looked, blinking, at John's face.

"Oh, ke'sari, I know it hurts. You couldn't have done any more than you did. You're only one man, and you did everything that the galaxy would allow you to."

She really was perfect, he thought for a moment, before his panic attack rushed back in. He gasped and wheezed in distress as the untold stress and anxiety, held off by distractions and duty for so long, finally made its impact on his ground into despair psyche known.

"John. There's nothing more anyone could have done"

"But… what… if…"

"No but what's. You are a hero for everything you did do."

Shepard knew this, somewhere in the back of his mind, but it just couldn't pierce the panic he felt now.

Then, Tali knew, somehow, how to calm him. She stood and walked quickly to the door, where the environmental controls were, and as she suspected, also the controls to sterilize and purify the room. She flipped them on and quickly walked back toward the bed, where Shepard seemed even worse for her several second long departure.

She pulled off her mask and as quickly as possible, pulled off the top of her enviro suit. John seemingly sucked in a breath that wouldn't come back out in his furthered panic at her potential health risk – but she pulled the rest of her suit off and climbed back in bed with him without giving him any more than a moment to think about it. She lifted his right hand and put it on her right breast, then put her cheek against his. He felt stubbly and papery to her; delicate. She stretched out on the bed with him, leaning her whole length against his body.

"Breathe with me, ke'sari. Just concentrate on my breath and try to match it."

She closed her eyes and gently dragged her fingers over his eyes, not touching them, causing him to close his. Steadily, over more than a few minutes, Shepard's breathing rate slowed. He didn't know why touching her, especially in that way, calmed him – but she seemed to understand it would.

As Tali felt his breathing slow, she reached down below the blankets and stripped off his hospital gown. John raised his arms to let her pull it off, and then settled back. Tali looked over the revealed torso of her bondmate with interest – he was different, thinner, more boney, less muscle. Not a huge amount – but it was obvious he'd spent three months sitting in a bed and little else. As far as she knew, he'd only just begun to walk to the bathroom without assistance. She replaced his right hand and then began to trace the angry pink lines of his fresh scars and the muted bare patches of his old ones. She curled her fingers around them and his chest hair.

John had his head back, trying to keep his breathing even while his thoughts spun away in dangerous circles, seeming to constantly remind him of the people lost and souls he had taken. He could see some of their faces… but similarly to the gentle feel of Tali's breast in his hand, he was grounded by feeling her tracing his scars. Garrus always said that chicks dig scars, he supposed, and it seemed like Tali wasn't an exception. Shepard opened his eyes and looked down at Tali, her hair spilled across his chest and her back, watching her fingers gently touch him.

It seemed to him that his mind cleared and drew inward toward a single point: her. She was here. She loved him. She wanted to be close to his slackened frame, wanted to touch that ravaged by horror and inactivity. He loved her, and as if on a trigger her love for him seemed to bloom in his eyes, surrounding him, determined to nurse, protect, and find joy in him.

Shepard sighed and lifted his right arm, as Tali looked up and into his eyes. John wrapped his arms around her, pulling Tali tighter to his body, and she brought her lips to his, kissed him softly. Shepard wondered for more than a few moments if she was going to initiate something deeper – but she didn't, for which he was grateful. He wanted to be more himself for that. Sex was supposed to be between two people, two partners – now it would be between a helpless shell and a woman who deserved more. Still… there was a beautiful woman pressed up against his side. He let his right arm drift down to stroke the curve where Tali's amazing hips met her tiny waist. She purred and wriggled closer to him. Shepard chuckled – Tali always moved a little like the stray cats his childhood gang used to keep away the rats did when he would pet them. Tali had been quite bothered by the description, until she saw some of the videos and photos of cats on the extranet, at which point she said they should get a kitten.

"That feels wonderful, ke'sari," she cooed into his chest. "Are you hunting for something?"

John looked down at her. "Yes. No. I don't know! I miss you. I feel weak. I feel loved by you, I love you, I want to give you pleasure. I'm just… confused. I'm sorry. I don't know what I want."

Tali looked up at him, her luminous eyes wide at his exclamation. "Then sleep. It's late – and you CAN'T have slept any better than me these past months. I'm still tired."

"I'm afraid, though. I feel ok right now because I can feel YOU. I know I'm not alone, you're right beside me. In my dreams… who knows what lurks there."

Tali laid her head back on his chest, and resumed tracing his scars. "I think we can risk it. Just try to remember: I'm right here, and I won't let ANYTHING happen to you." Then she kissed his sternum, as Shepard succumbed to his sudden exhaustion.


End file.
